Boundless
by Penwalla
Summary: AU. A bond is unbreakable, no matter how twisted and weakened it becomes. Hiatus.
1. part one

Boundless

_part one_

"_Dig!" The Decepticon roared. He stood, watching, as the line of prisoners slowly shifted the rubble. It was hard work, made harder by the fact they were all chained together, and by their various injuries. The unwilling workers were the unlucky survivors of the riots that had rocked the shady side of the city only hours earlier. They had been still able to move, and so deemed by the Decepticon invaders still able to work. Now they dug through the ruins, looking for something._

_The Decepticon supervising- an enormous mech by the name of Talon- wielded an electrowhip without mercy. He knew that beneath the rubble were the only traces of Shockwave's experiments- experiments that could be invaluable. However, Shockwave was long gone; he had no doubt taken what he could with him. He would reappear later to swear loyalty to Megatron, and present his results, but Talon's direct commander, Soundwave, was unwilling to wait for Shockwave. _

_Presenting even a scrap of information about Shockwave's carefully concealed doings was an instant ticket to promotion, and as much praise as Megatron ever gave. They were not the only Decepticons using prisoners to dig for information, but Talon was certain he was the one who would be successful…if only the damned civilians would dig faster…_

_A few of them had been run through the databases and deemed possible candidates or reformatting or other forms of forced defection; they possessed talents that might be of use to the Decepticon cause. One of them was a grey mech with a visor over his face, who was supposedly a perfect candidate for the burgeoning group of spies being cultivated by Megatron. Talon wasn't sure why- so far, the mech had proved slow and weak. He was shaking as he dragged piece after piece of metal off of the pile, and Talon watched with distaste as the mech stumbled over nothing._

_A glimmer of light drew his attention. Talon marched over to the ruined building and quickly dislodged some of the rubble; underneath, he found a panel set into the flor with a handle. Success! He grabbed the handle and pulled, hard, until it came free. _

_The hole was too small, but Talon enlarged it by pulling away the remaining floor. He grabbed two of the prisoners, unchaining them from the line, and secured the rest. He might need a smaller mech to explore whatever was down there, after all, and it wouldn't do to lose the rest of the workers. _

_The two mechs he grabbed were pulled along by their chains down through the hole and into what had been some kind of laboratory. There was an elaborate bank of computer terminals on one side, a few examination tables in the center with tool left behind on them, and a pile of sparkles frames left heaped against the wall. Perfect! Shockwave must have left in a hurry to have left all this behind. Talon started to call Soundwave and inform him of their findings when a moan caught his attention. It was the visored mech; he had fallen to his knees and was reaching out, with pathetically trembling hands for the pile of the dead. Half-interested in his sudden break, Talon let go of his chain and watched as the mech ran over and dragged one of the bodies out of the pile. He pulled it into his lap and began examining it, keening with grief._

_It was white and black, and partially dissembled- part of the chest plates had been cut away, his facial plating was gone and revealed the wiring beneath, and when Talon went over to pry the grey mech off of the corpse, he saw that all the processors had been removed. There was still a spark chamber inside him, however. _

_It was a dead chamber. Talon wondered why this weakling had ever been considered worthy of being a Decepticon and jerked the grey mech, who had removed the empty spark chamber and was cradling it in his hands, upright._

_The mech struggled fiercely, thrashing and screaming. He was almost incoherent with sorrow- Talon could barely make out the words, "sparkmate", "dead", and "impossible". That caught his attention- the death of one bonded mech always led to the death of the other. For Shockwave to have found a way to circumvent that…was very useful. Which made the grey mech useful._

_Talon put him offline with one punch, and then directed the other prisoner to drag the body. He contacted Soundwave with undisguised glee. This information would certainly guarantee them all Megatron's favor…_

* * *

Jazz leaned back against the wall in the Command Center, ignoring the glares from his fellow soldiers. They were all there, trying desperately to get the navigation system running, as some lethal new virus of the Autobots tore it apart. His comrades were understandably afraid- this was a science and recon vessel, not a warship, and they were already in bad condition before the ship's computer crashed.

Their mission had been to investigate the various Autobot bases on the other side of the system, the ones cut off from the man force. Well, their original mission had been to divine the purpose of Shockwave's experiments, Jazz recalled with an unpleasant lurch in his spark, but they'd quickly discovered they had other priorities.

He shook off the memories, and focused on his comrades. They were still freaking out, and as amusing as it was, Jazz was getting tired of their inability. He strolled over to one of the consoles, plugged in, and began working on it. Within a few seconds, the virus was quarantined, and while the others began trying to get the system repaired, Jazz quickly wrote an antivirus and made a copy of the virus to modify for his own use. Really, this virus had been meant as a quick distraction while the Autobots disabled the ship with some careful shooting- that is had taken this long was a bonus for them.

Jazz checked to see if the Autobots were still transmitting. They were. He hacked in and sent them a few viruses of his own.

"Shouldn't we be gettin' ready to board, Talon?" Jazz asked. Talon glared at him.

"No!"

"Why not? Our ship's not goin' anywhere without engines and a computer. Only thing to do is take the fight to them. I mean, as the commander here, I figured you would've figured that out…unless you wanted us to surrender?"

"Surrender? Decepticons never surrender." Talon snapped. One of his cannons spun.

"So...we are boardin'?" Jazz confirmed and watched as Talon's face froze. The commander of the ship had taken a bad blow to the processor during their last raid and was having with any strategy more complex than 'kill it!'. No one but Jazz had known, seeing as they'd been in the clear until now, and watching Talon struggle to find a way out that didn't involve admitting Jazz was right was highly amusing.

"We'll…we'll fight them here." Talon said. "We'll kill the Autobots when they come."

"They ain't comin'." Jazz said. "They can just blow us to pieces from here, or leave us here and come back with reinforcements. It's almost like you want us to get caught, Talon."

"I- I don't."

"You don't sound too sure there."

"I don't!"

The other Decepticons were cut off form the main fleet and so didn't have the finely tuned instincts of the average Decepticon that told them to follow the herd at all costs, lest they be branded as traitors. However, even they could see the logic in Jazz's argument and could judge for themselves the odds of Talon killing Jazz. No one was stupid enough to support a possible traitor.

The best course of action was clear.

There were only six Autobots to the thirteen boarding Decepticons, excluding a furious and bound Talon, and although the Autobot ship was much better armed, the bots on it were overwhelmed easily. When they were all dead, the Decepticons immediately spread out, exploring the ship and loving supplies from their old one.

Jazz found some high grade and suggested they celebrate. While his comrades got steadily drunker, and the two scientists retreated into the back to work, Jazz easily stripped the dead bots of a few useful modifications and arranged for Talon to shoot himself with his own plasma cannon.

In the haze of the drink, no one would notice if he vanished for a while, and in the midst of celebrations, no one was going to through the Autobot inventory and notice Jazz was stealing energon and supplies.

Jazz had to laugh at the other Decepticons; it never failed to amuse him how easy they were to manipulate to his own ends.

* * *

"Soundwave." Megatron said. "Have you located the infiltrator?"

"Affirmative." Soundwave replied. "The thief is not an Autobot."

"So we have a traitor in our midst? Who?"

"Negative. The Deadwheel's crew sent a transmission earlier containing the stolen data."

"The Deadwheel." Megatron smiled at that. He understood now the thief's purpose.

The Deadwheel had merely been a scientific vessel meant to hide their experiments from the Autobots until they could reunite safely with the main fleet. However, a battle had killed half their science team and destroyed most of their findings. Their best shot had been a prisoner they'd caught, who'd identified one of Shockwave's subjects as his sparkmate.

While it was clear that somehow Jazz had survived the death of his sparkmate, what the scientists working on had been unable to discover was why Jazz insisted he could still feel his mate. It wasn't merely a coping mechanism- no, his body seemed to recognize signals in Jazz's spark from the bond. However, what a deep-spark scan showed was the remnant of a bond, which seemed to further prove that the sparkmate was dead. Megatron had snorted and demanded useful information at those results; even the stupidest of mechs knew that spark chambers were irreplaceable, and if yours was empty, you were dead.

When nothing else was forthcoming, Megatron ordered the scientists to make Jazz sane enough to serve as a Decepticon spy. His intent had been for Jazz to join the other cons assigned to reconnaissance, but halfway through Jazz's rehabilitation, the Deadwheel had ended up in Autobot space with no way of escaping. They'd been presumed dead and Megatron had forgotten them.

Until the Autobots had contacted them for the release of their soldiers, from the captured ship Safeguard. Since Megatron had no knowledge of any such attack, he informed the Autobots that the prisoners would be tortured until they broke, and waited. The crew of the Deadwheel called in eventually, and was ordered to come back to base.

A conversation with one of the scientists had quickly let Megatron onto some interesting news- apparently Jazz had not only proved to be rehabilitatable but had become talented enough to single-handedly pull off most of the supply raids the Deadwheel had conducted while trapped in Autobot airspace. What was more interesting was that Jazz had gone out of his way to steal various bits of information and do extra recon on the Autobots there.

Clearly he was talented, and judging by his actions, a believer in the Decepticon way. That could be useful- and if Jazz was breaking into the Decepticon mainframe in such an obvious manner, he wanted the attention. He wanted acknowledgment of his talents.

"When the crew of the Deadwheel arrives, give Jazz a mission. See if he is as talented as he seems."

"Understood."

* * *

"Sir." When Prowl came to his quarters in the middle of his recharge shift, priem knew that there was an emergency. While Prowl was famous among the Autobots for his seeming inability to recharge for more than half a shift, Optimus didn't share his enthusiasm for datawork and tried to get a full shift of sleep whenever possible.

"What's happened?"

"It's him, sir." Prowl said. "The Decepticons who were raiding our territory in Kyron 5. He's here- the Arrow's entire mainframe is down."

Kyron 5 was Autobot territory, but it was a secondary site of operations; all the main action was happening here, in the planets and moons near the now uninhabitable Cybetron. Kyron 5 was secure enough since they were behind the main forces, and the raids on them had been alarming because of the total lack of evidence behind them.

"How?" Optimus started walking towards the main meeting room; Prowl followed.

"We don't know. There is, as in Kyron 5, no evidence that anyone was ever there, except that the Arrow's mainframe had to be shut down to be fixed. They have a secondary, but they're on the edge of our territory."

"Do we have contact?"

"Not anymore. I ordered them to head to the nearest base, but there is only a ten percent chance they will arrive."

"So this spy is with the main forces now?"

"It is likely." Prowl explained. "Prior raids were merely for supplies; he only started breaking into the systems in the later ones, and even then it seems to have been more opportunity then planning. Nothing was stolen off the Arrow. He broke in specifically to take out their mainframe."

"He couldn't have sent it as a transmission?"

"An attack of this strength? It would need to be hardwired. He would have had to gain access to the ship somehow."

"He might still be there." Prime said. He could imagine what would happen to those bots if they missed the enemy aboard. "There are only seven mechs on the Arrow. Warriors coming from another base after repairs."

"Yes."

"We should send another ship after them."

"Prime, we have no way of catching the spy. He's successfully entered every base in the Kyron 5 sector without detection. We can't risk him moving from the Arrow to another ship."

"We can't afford to lose the Arrow."

"We can't afford to lose anyone else, either."

"He's not going to just leave them alive, Prowl!" Prime snapped. "If we don't go after them…they won't make it. We will not abandon the Arrow. And I don't think the spy would linger aboard. Those are front liners he'd be fighting."

"Yes, sir." Prowl replied. If he disapproved, he didn't press the issue any further. "How far are we on those warp engines?"

"There's an experimental prototype ready. We were about to run a drone test with it." Optimus replied. "You have an idea?"

"We cannot lose another ship to him." Prowl said. "A warp engine would not only give him less time to get onboard, but less time to tamper with the ship."

"It's not ready yet, but I'll speak with Perceptor on the subject. Get a team and a sip ready. We're going in."

"Yes, sir." Prowl was certain the spy was still onboard the Arrow, despite the enormous risk, simply because he could easily alert the Decepticons of his success and let them fight the Arrow's crew for him. Optimus had to know that. "I hope you are right."

He began running through various scenarios as he walked, even as he planned a new battle strategy for the next stage of war. One without the Arrow and the ship they were about to send.

After all, the odds were against them… and there was no victory without loss in war.

* * *

"I'm going to kill the fragger when we catch him." Ironhide growled. "Seven! He's taken out seven ships in the last six months!"

"We don't even have a name." Red Alert agreed. "No description. We think he was with the Deadwheel but even that's only a theory."

"It is the most likely possibility." Prowl argued. "The wormhole opened into Kyron 5. It explains how he got in, why he was stealing supplies only at first, and why it took so long for Megatron to utilize him for more complex operations."

"What about the Safeguard? Megatron said he had the crew in captivity." Red Alert asked.

"He could have lied." Prime said heavily. "We probably directed Megatron's attention back to the Deadwheel and our mystery spy ourselves when we tried to negotiate for the Safeguard's crew."

"Still doesn't tell us how he's doing it." Ironhide grumbled.

"There's no pattern as to how he disables the ship." Prowl agreed. "The Arrow was taken out with a virus, but he's planted explosives in the engines, overloaded the weapons systems, and crashed a ship into an asteroid- which leaves three ships that simply vanished. While the sudden increase in vanished ships all still technically within Autobot airspace, as soon as our mystery saboteur presumably reaches the main Decepticon army, suggests that he is responsible, we have no other proof."

"It could be a highly trained team of spies, or just Megatron going on the offensive and trying to weaken us. We just don't know."

"Why steal the ships, then? It'd be more crippling just to blow them up." Ironhide pointed out.

"He's not focusing on a type of ship." Prime said. "We know Megatron has better manufacturing capabilities than we do. Why would he need our ships?"

"What alloys were used in the making of the stolen ships?" Prowl asked. He punched something into the keyboard in front of him, and the three dimensional display in the center of the table showed a list of stolen ships and their make up. "Three of them have alloys rare in Decepticon territory, but the others don't. None of the ships contained new or Autobot-restricted technology. No correlation between the backgrounds or prior missions or functions of the crews."

"When will we have warp engines?" Red Alert asked.

"Wheeljack informed me that the last attempt ended up in pieces." Prime said. "That's not currently an option."

"We can keep ships close to home for now, but those supply routes are vital to our operations." Red Alert said. "I've been trying to update the security on all ships in range but there's only so much I can do from here."

"Can we set a trap?" Ironhide asked. "Let him take a ship and then capture him while he's on it?"

"We could." Prowl said. "I've been working on a viable plan, but it would be easier if we had warp engines, or even knew how he was getting to the ships without getting caught. I've been checking all the video feed from the docks where the ships left- he could have been doing some of it remotely or been sneaking aboard there."

"I've checked some of it myself, but he didn't get caught in Kyron 5." Red Alert muttered. "I don't think we're going to find anything."

"We've lost twenty two men in the last six months, all of whom are in captivity and all of whom are in the highest security prisons under Megatron, if counter intelligence is correct. This cannot go on. I want a plan within the next two days." Optimus stood up. "Let's go. We're out of time."

"Yes, sir." They left, and Optimus stopped Prowl on his way out, leaving the two alone in the conference room.

"Has there been any change in your…condition?"

"No." Prowl said heavily. "But I measured the distance between our sparks. He was in Autobot territory during some of the attacks- although I can't tell direction or distance accurately enough to know where."

"You think he's responsible." It wasn't a question. Prowl nodded, looking weary.

"He was too far for me to know where he was until just before the attacks. He could have been on the Deadwheel."

"You told me he had Decepticon leanings?"

"He agreed with Megatron's ideas! Not his methods." Prowl said sharply.

"I have to assume the worst until we know, Prowl." Prime said apologetically.

"Yes, sir." Prowl turned and left the room, leaving Prime with only his thoughts for company. For a moment the enormous mech simply brooded, wondering what he would do if he was right and the worst was true.

Then he left, letting the door shut behind him, and marched down to his office. There was work to be done.

* * *

Eventually, Jazz found himself back in the unpleasant position of specimen while the Scientists- he preferred not to think of them by name- examined his spark again. They always made noises of interest and commented on how interesting it all was, but Jazz could never really bring himself to care.

"There's no interference from the double chamber?"

"Not as far as we know. A deep spark scan will be more telling."

"Fascinating…he's still receiving phantom signals. Even though we've confirmed the loss of the other spark."

"An interesting survival mechanism- tricking the spark into believing it is still bound so it doesn't die. It could prove to be useful for reformatting."

"Jazz." The visored mech shifted to show he was listening. "Have you noted any changes?"

"Nope." It was a lie, but the Scientists were lacking in social skills and wouldn't notice. Jazz waited impatiently for them to finish, already planning his next mission- he had a meeting with Megatron himself, finally, and it looked like some real challenges were coming his way.

* * *


	2. part two

_part two_

_The first thing he saw was light._

_He'd been in the dark for too long, and his optics took a few seconds to recalibrate. Blurry spots of color and shadow became clear. He was still flat on his back on a lab table. The room around him was white, clinical._

_He panicked. As he tried to get off the table and run away, another mech tried to restrain him. It was pointless; his body wouldn't move the way he wanted it to; his movements were slow and clumsy, and there was no way he could run anywhere. A diagnostic showed that he was in perfect condition, but the list of programs that came up was unfamiliar._

_This was not his body. Now that the panic was abating, prowl looked down at himself and realized his new body was black, armored, with spikes. He looked at his hands, and saw the claws set in his wrist. They extended out over his fingers, and then snapped back in. _

"_Do you know where you are?" The green mech who'd restrained him spoke._

"_No."_

"_This is the Autobot camp outside Iacon. We found you hiding in one of the buildings there- it collapsed on you. My name's Ratchet. I'm the medic here."_

"_Where are the others?" Prowl asked. _

"_What others?"_

"_I wasn't hiding." Prowl said. He searched his memory and found it didn't match the medic's story at all. Was this a trick? Were they experimenting on him again? "I was kidnapped during the riots. There were other mechs captured as well. They were…"_

"_What happened?" Ratchet asked. He was afraid of what Prowl would say; the scans he'd already done had given him a good idea of why Prowl had been kidnapped and why he'd been hiding._

"_They…experimented. On our sparks." Prowl said slowly. Ratchet nodded._

"_Sit down." Ratchet said. "I checked your new frame against your database specs and…"_

* * *

His spark was hurting him again. Jazz lay back on the berth, one arm under his head, the other idly rubbing the plating over his spark chamber. It was a faint pain, but it was there; he could feel it even through the mental wall he'd erected between his spark and the little piece of…him…that was left.

Jazz knew that he ought to just ignore the twinges; though they'd been steadily getting worse rather than better, they were of no consequence. Yet while he never opened the bond enough to see if he could really feel them, he never actively tried to push them away, either. In the end, he was unwilling to either acknowledge his attachment to the phantom pains or extinguish the connection entirely.

He had been assigned a real job. Megatron had been pleased with the seven ships he'd brought ,and more pleased still with the crew members, who could be traded for ransom later and used to get some needed information as well. Jazz had passed the test- a test he suspected had been meant to be failed. His new assignment: seize the Autobots' latest technology, their warp engine, and insure by whatever means necessary that the Autobots' couldn't reproduce it.

It would be his first time aboard the Autobots' central hub- a giant ship that doubled as a city, run by a sentient ship-spark called Teletran-1. It was currently parked in orbit around a moon somewhere near Cybertron, but where exactly was unknown- the Ark, as it was called, was deep in Autobot territory. Getting that far alone had killed plenty of Decepticons.

Tomorrow he would see the Scientists again, and then he would begin. Mind spinning out a thousand plans, Jazz forgot his pained spark.

* * *

"…sir?" Optimus looked up to see Prowl enter his office. "He's getting closer."

"How close?"

"Within out territory." Prowl said. He came over to the terminal Optimus had been working on; Optimus nodded, and Prowl pulled up a map of the area. There were routes of all Autobot ships with real time locations marked out on it, and Prowl spun the display and highlighted a few routes in particular. "I cross referenced all possible routes for inbound ships with the pertinent factors. These are the most likely possibilities."

"You think he's coming here?"

"One of our spies just reported in. Megatron wants our warp engine technology, Prime. He knows that perfecting it will give an edge in the war." Prowl paused, pulling up another map ,this one far less detailed and of Decepticon territory. "Right now we are fighting the entire war within the no man's land between our respective territories. Megatron's limited warping technology is only good if the user has a detailed knowledge of terrain and can only affect a limited mass. I project that our warp engines, if successful, could end the war within three years if utilized correctly."

"And his saboteur has already proved that he can break into an Autobot base without any problems. Frag." Optimus said tersely. "We need to update our security."

"I've spoken with Red Alert, sir, but I propose something else."

"What?"

"That we immediately gather all data and materials pertaining to the project and move the elsewhere." Prowl held u pa had not stop Prime's objection. "Sir, they will never expect us to risk losing the project by moving it."

"What are the odds, Prowl?"

"There is a sixty percent chance we will lose the warp engine if we do not move it. A fifty seven percent chance if we do."

"Only three percent."

"It is not only three percent." Prowl said. "And it is the only chance we will have. At the speed he is coming, within a few days it will be too late. We cannot risk anyone knowing that the warp engine is being moved."

"And if there's a leak?"

"Ninety six percent."

"Do it. Put it on the Lightspeed, within the hour. Tell no one. If anyone asks, we are moving everything to the emergency pod down below."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Spark aching, he stopped to collect himself. The pain was fiery, deep set in his spark, making him almost shake with agony. The spasm came and went, and they lasted only seconds, but even a moment of lost concentration could get him killed.

Jazz crawled along the ceiling, held there by the magnets in his hands. It was dark, deep in the underbelly of the Ark. There had been many problem with getting this far, most them having to do wit Teletran-1. Because the ship's core was alive, with a widespread sensor net, getting past it meant either sticking to the least monitored areas or hacking in and playing with Teletran's processor.

Since the warp engines were in protected areas (although thankfully outside the ship's core, the parts that were actually Teletran's body) Jazz had been forced to spend a few days looking for the right mixture of frequencies to make himself invisible to the sensors. He would still be caught if someone actually saw him, or heard him, but the security system wouldn't know- at least for a few hours. Teletran-1 had too much processing power to be permanently affected.

The warp engines had been moved from the lab; Jazz had checked there first. When he found nothing there, he moved down into the emergency pod down below. It was a long shot, but the Autobots' might be willing to destroy the tech rather than lose it. Jazz had already decided that if he didn't find anything in the pod, he'd grab one of the scientists and see if a little interrogation didn't prove worthwhile. He didn't think the warp engines would have left the ship; the odds of the cons getting them were about the same either way, so the Autobots' had probably taken the safer option of leaving them onboard.

The emergency pod was sealed shut, with enough sensors aimed at it to make simply being sneaky impossible. They were independently connected to alarms, and didn't go through the security system first- meaning that they were good for extremely high risk situations but caused too many false alarms in real life.

Jazz started to set a disruptor for the mini-reactors that powered the whole system. It took several tries and a few close calls, but eventually the system shut off. Jazz pulled a magnet strip from subspace, attached the disruptor at a convenient angle, and then pressed close to the door, searching for a latch or a port so he could get it open.

The level he was on was silent and dark, and Jazz's sensitive audios and high powered sensors told him he was alone. But another jolt of pain one that seemed to go on and on, sapping the strength from his limbs and making his claws shudder, kept him from noticing the approaching Autobots until it was too late.

The pain built and built, deafening Jazz to the cannon pressed to his helm, and when eh blacked out, he missed the triumph of the Autobots who carried him away.

"Got him." Ironhide crowed. "Prowl, hand me the- Prowl?"

The tactician collapsed heavily onto his knees, clutching at his chest. "…get him to the brig."

"Are you-"

"Now." Prowl produced the stasis cuffs Ironhide had wanted and tossed him at him. "I'm on my way."

"You look like you're slagged, prowl." Ironhide activated his comm and switched to a specific frequency.

:Ratchet. We got a problem.:

:You slagged the spy?:

:It's Prowl. He just dropped- right after our spy went offline.:

:Frag. I'm on my way.:

Ironhide dropped the connection and made another. :Prime? We caught him, but Prowl's injured.:

:Prowl? I'll be there within the hour.:

* * *

There was a medical area for injured prisoners within the brig, to minimize the risk of escape. Ironhide dragged Jazz's offline frame by the cuffs, his other hand on Prowl's shoulder. Prowl was still too unsteady to walk unsupported, and it was a mark of how much pain he was in that he made no attempt to walk unaided or to even regain his composure.

Once they reached the brig, Ironhide strapped Jazz to an examination table and helped Prowl onto another. Ratchet was on his way, and the big black mech paced impatiently.

"Call Prime." Prowl said weakly.

"I did." Ironhide hesitated, and then plunged forward- he was not a subtle mech. "You know him?"

Before Prowl could answer, Prime and Ratchet charged in. Ratchet rushed over to Prowl and slapped what seemed to be half of a solid metal ball onto his chest. The metal quivered, and Ratchet pressed one finger against the top for a few second, measuring.

"You have energy building up-that's what's causing all the pain. This will help it leave your systems faster." Ratchet pulled out another one of the metal half-spheres and slapped it down on Jazz's chest. He noted the lack of a Decepticon insignia there- it was on Jazz's shoulder instead. "Do you feel anything? Emotions, phantom sensory input?"

"No."

"Prowl, is it him?" Prime asked urgently.

"Yes, sir." Now that the energy was dissipating faster, Prowl dragged himself off of the berth and walked over to where Jazz was lying. He checked the cuffs again, and simply stood there, looking down at him, expression inscrutable.

_You haven't changed at all. _Except for some flashier silver paint and the Decepticon insignia, Jazz's frame was basically the same. Prowl recognized the visor that covered the top of his face, the set of his mouth, the shape of his body. It was like stepping back in time.

The other three mechs watched Prowl, aware of an odd sort of tension in the air. They waited for him to do something. Finally, Ratchet laid a hand on his shoulder.

"We can take him to the brig now."

"Of course." Prowl removed the energy dissipater from Jazz's chest and handed it to Ratchet. "Ironhide, if you would assist me."


	3. part three

_part three_

_Anyone looking into their apartment would have realized it was inhabited by more than one person. _

_The walls were white and the floor a somber grey, the way they had been when the building was built- stern, hardly inviting. But looking up, the ceiling was streaked with different colors, random brushstrokes that didn't fit with the stark walls. There was a standard energon dispenser set into the wall, with a counter and cabinets on each side. The counter on the left was bare, and the cabinets all latched shut; the one on the right had a stack of mismatched cubes and a partially disassembled holographic projector, and one of the cabinets was missing a door._

_There was a standard issue table in the center of the room, but the chairs were thickly padded; there was a screen displaying both the daily news and a list of songs on the wall. In the berthroom, there was a double berth attached at the head to the wall- the left wall had a built-in desk and wall to wall shelving full of datapads, while the right had shelves and cabinets attached at seemingly random places. _

_Anyone who stopped by in the evening- or what was like it on Cybertron, where there was no sun- would have found what seemed to be two separate lives that merely happened to exist it in the same place. _

_It did not seem possible that two mechs so different would ever intersect except by necessity or accident. _

_And yet they did._

* * *

The Autobot brig was one place Jazz hadn't ever bothered to scope out, either here on the Ark or on any base in Kyron 5. He'd never been caught before, and he'd never seen a reason to check out the prison before- not when there were supplies to steal and ships to crash.

But when he came online, he knew exactly where he was. The cramped space, bizarrely enough painted a nauseating shade of orange, was solid metal on three sides and energy bars on the fourth; there was a dim light set into the ceiling above him, bright enough to let him appreciate the awful orange but dim enough that he didn't feel like a lab specimen. His wrists were cuffed in front of him, and he was lying on the hard floor.

Leaving his visor dark, Jazz looked at the bars and saw that there was a guard. The red mech stared at him, probably waiting for him to wake up. The silver Decepticon was fairly certain that he was due for an interrogation. He ran a diagnostic and found himself in good shape, even if his weapons were disabled. His spark had stopped hurting, although he could still feel pressure there, as if his chamber had shrunk.

What could the Autobots' do to him? Feeling good about his prospects, Jazz let his visor light up. The guard noticed he was awake, and called in another bot. It was one Jazz recognized from his brief perusal of the personnel files. The Decepticons didn't really have the information Jazz wanted on most of the bots- there were plenty of weapons specs and lists of abilities, but no information about, say, their personalities or their relationships. However, Ironhide had a reputation for being a one-mech army, so his file was particularly detailed.

Ironhide was not someone Jazz wanted to be killed by- those cannons were to be avoided at all costs.

"Huh. You're Ironhide, right? Figured you'd be taller." On the other hand, he was needed alive for an interrogation.

"Why, you-" Ironhide controlled himself and switched a portion of the energy bars so the red mech could haul Jazz out. Ironhide seized him by the cuffs and proceeded to roughly drag him down the hallway, passing cells on all sides, to a heavy steel door at the end of the hall. Presumably that was the interrogation room.

"Here you go, con. Enjoy." Ironhide hoped Prowl gave him Pit- from what had happened earlier, he guessed the two had some past history, and Ironhide was betting that it was unpleasant.

The door slid open, the lights inside turned up enough to force Jazz to recalibrate, and Ironhide shoved him inside.

* * *

Prowl waited for Jazz to orient himself.

It had been so long since they'd seen each other, or so it felt. Seeing how familiar Jazz looked had bothered him more than he cared to admit- Prowl was in a new body, had changed since those idyllic days on Cybertron, and had imagined the same for Jazz.

Then again, Jazz was suspected of raiding Kyron 5, stealing seven Autobot ships, breaking undetected into the Ark, and was probably responsible for the deaths of at least thirty soldiers. The mech he had known would never have engaged in such wanton destruction.

He let Jazz's optics adjust to the light- it took a few seconds. He watched the blue visor darken as it tried to block out the light. Jazz's posture stiffened as his sight cleared and he got a good look at Prowl's face. Had he recognized Prowl?

Hesitantly, the tactician reached out with his spark, pushing for a response.

"You." Jazz's voice was cold with fury. "You're not real!"

And he lunged. Prowl barely had time to bring up his hands before Jazz slammed into him, knocking him back against the wall. The cuffs should have severely limited his mobility, but that didn't stop him from pressing the bar between the cuffs directly against prowl's neck, crushing down on the vocalizer.

"Arg…ah…Jazz…" Prowl tried to force out a sentence, but what emerged was mangled and static-filled. He tried to force Jazz off, but couldn't.

"You're not real, you're not real, there's no way you could possibly be-your face-you look just like him and you make my spark hurt-and you can't be real-" Jazz was babbling. He knew that he should stop talking, but the black mech he was trying to kill was wearing his dead sparkmate's face, was making his spark jump in his chest.

"Don't." Prowl managed. His claws were cutting into Jazz's sides, but the silver mech didn't seem to notice the owudns or the energon dripping out onto the floor.

"Die." Jazz growled. He was so close to Prowl now that their chests were touching; he could actually hear Prowl's energon pump pounding in his chest. "You're-not-real."

With a primary energon line disrupted, Prowl's optics were the first thing to go. They started to flicker and then dim as they ran out of power. Jazz watched- he wanted to see this- this thing die-

-he wondered if this was how it had looked when his sparkmate died-

With a jerk, Jazz abruptly jumped back. Prowl didn't even stagger, though he was fighting blind; he reached out and seized Jazz by the arm, keeping him from retreating.

"I'm here." Prowl's voice cracked as his vocalizer started to snap back into palce. "I'm here, Jazz. This is real."

"It isn't." Jazz whimpered, and the break in his voice hit Prowl like a physical blow. "You died."

"I didn't."

"I don't believe you." Jazz started to lunge at him again, but all his control had fled; his attack was predictable, sloppy and Prowl easily restrained him, slamming him into the wall. How could he reason with him?

Their chests touched again and this time, undistracted by Jazz crushing his neck, Prowl felt it. His spark chamber vibrated, almost imperceptibly, barely causing a blip in his sensors. But it was enough.

He was processing faster than he had ever before, faster than he had in the most heated of battles, and yet time had slowed. No matter how quickly he understood, no matter how rapidly he assembled the pieces, it took forever, every nanosecond too long.

"You thought that I died. You found the frame. You're wearing my chamber around yours."

"How do you know that?"

"Spark harmonics." Prowl replied. "My spark recognizes the chamber."

Jazz reached up to clutch at his chest; the silver mech could feel the vibrations.

"…I couldn't feel you. I would have felt you if you were alive! Besides, how the frag could you have even replaced your-"

Shockwave's experiments. The ones they had assumed were about bonding. All they had known was that they were about sparks…and the irreplaceability of the original spark chamber was one of those medical mysteries mechs had been trying to solve for as long as their species had existed. If spark chambers could be replaced, it would mean that mechs who had previously been doomed would be saved. It would give the side that discovered it an advantage.

"Somehow he did." Prowl whispered. "But he damaged the bond." He let it sink in. "I called you, Jazz. From the moment I awoke in my new frame I called you."

"I couldn't hear you." Jazz said dumbly. His processor had stopped working; the thought 'Prowl is alive' ran on repeat in his mind, a persistent ache made of longing and guilt and pain blocked out every complexity. There was nothing but the simple fact that here he was. "All I did was hurt."

"Jazz." Prowl detected the Autobots waiting just outside the door; any moment they would enter. He desperately searched for something to say, anything to prolong this instant. Jazz was still giving him that broken shell-shocked look, and the energon on his hands was forgotten, everything was forgotten as some long-dormant subroutine reminded him just whom he was with.

"I didn't mean for you to die," Jazz started in a small voice, and then the floors flew open.

"Thought we'd help you out with the interrogation." Ironhide growled. He spun a cannon menacingly.

Prowl reach up, slid his fingers into a gap in the plating on Jazz's neck, and tugged. Jazz's optics flickered, and he collapsed, offline.

:Does he really deserve your protection?: Ratchet asked, over the comm so that Ironhide and the other guards wouldn't hear. He reached out for Jazz's limp frame, and Prowl shoved Jazz into the medic's grasp.

"I don't know." The tactician admitted aloud, ashamed, and overcome by the fight between his spark and his sense, he fled.

* * *

_They met in the middle._

_Prowl wanted to live uptown, near the offices; Jazz wanted to live downtown in the shadier areas where he always had. They argued about it for weeks; Jazz didn't want to live near the rich and away from his clients, while Prowl refused to live anywhere where he had to pay a protection fee to the reigning gang. _

_They found a place in the middle class apartments near the Youth Sectors. They were surrounded by bonded couples raising sparklings, and small businesses; it was close to Prowl's office and far enough from the worst part of town that Jazz could control where and when he met his clients without alienating them. It was close enough for Jazz to invite over friends and far enough for Prowl to enjoy his solitude._

_It seemed a little lonely, moving on to the next part of their lives; as they looked around the empty apartment, still the white and grey that was standard in any low-rent place, they held hands. There was so little space, and they would have to share it for the rest of their days, or at least the rest of their lease._

"_So." Jazz had said. "What should we do first?"_

"_Test the power lines and the plumbing." Prowl ahd replied. Jazz could imagine the mental checklist he'd made, could see him already planning the practicalities of life together. "Then…furniture…"_

_Jazz stroked the edge of one doorwing. "Plenty of time for business later, don't you think?"_

"_We should get it done now." There was no force behind the words as Jazz embraced him from behind; Prowl leaned into his touch, feeling the tension bleed out of him. _

"_We can do it later." Jazz whispered. "Wanna christen the berth?"_

"_It's only a single." Prowl protested weakly. "We have to have it…replaced…"There were clever fingers sliding over his hip and down his thigh now, and Prowl forgot the end of his argument._

"_We'll just have be real close, won't we," Jazz pushed him towards the berthroom, and Prowl let himself be dragged alone; Jazz was right, business could wait._


	4. part four

_part four_

"_Sit down." Ratchet said. "I checked your new frame against your database specs and there are some anomalies. Obviously this new frame was meant for combat, and your old one wasn't, so you'll need to adjust. But you still have your original processor, and the logic component is three hundred times the legal limit."_

"_I can explain." Prowl said. _

"_You'll have to. The other thing…" Ratchet hesitated. "You're not in your original spark chamber."_

"_What?"_

"_I know it sound impossible, but I checked and double checked it. Were there any distinguishing marks on your spark chamber that aren't in your file?"_

"_An inscription on the inside. Right wall, near the bottom."_

"_You let someone write on your- never mind. Young fools, I swear…what does it say?"_

"_It…it says 'property of Jazz'." Prowl admitted. He felt numb; one part of him was already planning out the most efficient course of action, but another was still stuck in his spark and his mate. "What happened to my spark?"_

"_You have a sparkmate?" _

"_Yes." Prowl said impatiently. _

"_Primus." Ratchet growled. The entire situation was bad. He had had enough problems with mechs whose mates were dead; how did you tell someone their bond was…"I ran a deep spark scan. Your bond is…altered."_

"_Is Jazz alive?"_

"_I don't know. I ran all his info from the database through the system and didn't find anything. I'm sorry, Prowl."_

"_What do you mean by 'altered'?"_

"_I'm no expert on sparks, but it's almost like your bond's been cut in half. Normally a bond runs the whole spectrum of spark harmonics- you only seem to be sharing a small portion of them. I don't even know that you'd be able to tell if something happened to your…your mate. I'll be keeping you under observation to see if the problem corrects itself."_

"_What if it doesn't?"_

"_Then we'll have to do research, keep you under observation. I've never seen anything like you before. That you survived being moved to a new spark chamber- it's a fragging miracle."_

"_So there's nothing to be done." Prowl said. He could sense something on the other end of his bond, but it was barely there. Would Jazz even hear him if he called?_

* * *

Jazz awoke in a room that was not the brig. He was rather surprised for a few seconds before his memories caught up with him. He stared blankly at the ceiling, waiting for it to sink in.

Prowl was alive.

"Primus." He muttered. The room he was in was white, and he was strapped to a table; it looked like some kind of either torture chamber or medical bay. He could smell cleaning fluid in the air, though, so medical bay was more likely unless cleaning fluid was now a torture device.

If he'd tried to kill his interrogator in a Decepticon brig, he'd be dead or worse, but maybe the Autobots were more lenient about things like that. He couldn't imagine Prowl bothering to ask for mercy for him, not when Jazz had…had…

"Feeling better?" He jumped- he was too distracted, dangerously distracted, and frag it all, he'd didn't even care- as the Autobots' Chief Medical Officer came in. His name was Ratchet, if Jazz recalled correctly. He wondered suddenly why Prowl's name hadn't stuck out when he'd gone over the files before starting on his mission.

"You should be fine- I welded up your sides." Ratchet said dryly. "Prime wants to see you. He'll be here in a moment."

"Why?" Jazz had assumed he was being repaired for another interrogation session.

"You'll find out when he gets here. Don't move around too much, your self-repair is still working on those welds and I don't feel like redoing them. Excuse me." The medic checked the restraint holding Jazz to the examination table again, and then snatched up a heavy wrench and left. As soon as the bright green mech was gone, Prime entered.

He was huge- taller and broader than Jazz, with a red and blue paintjob that might have looked ridiculous on anyone else. Jazz remembered his set of swords and his pulse cannon and the fact that he was a Prime, and felt fear. His confidence was gone, drained away by the emotional whirlwind he'd just experienced- he felt empty and alone and very small.

"You're Jazz."

The silver mech didn't respond.

"Prowl is in the medical bay right now."

"Why?" Optimus noted Jazz's response. He looked more animated already.

"You damaged his vocalizer. It seems to be snapping back correctly, but there was no energon reaching his optics, his vocalizer, and several other sensors in his head. There might be damage." Prime let it sink in.

"He's not gonna die." Jazz said. "I've strangled mechs for longer without killin' 'em."

"Mechs like the ones on the Arrow? Or the Safeguard?"

Jazz debated for a moment on whether he should talk. The idea of returning to the Decepticons who had damaged his bond and hurt his mate seemed absurd; but if he told them everything now, there would be no point in keeping alive, would there? Prowl wouldn't want him alive. He could be executed for war crimes.

Besides, he could trade some information for a chance to see Prowl again. Certainly his mate wasn't going to come to him.

"Might be, yeah." Jazz tried to summon up his old bravado. "What do I get out of telling you? Megatron'll kill me if he finds out."

"We can offer you protection."

"Can I see Prowl?" Jazz went straight to the point.

"It might be possible." Optimus had already decided to leave it up to Prowl; he thought it might be to the tactician's benefit to see his mate, but he wasn't going to force the issue.

"I might have something to say if I were allowed to see him."

"I'll ask him." Optimus stood up. He had expected the Decepticon to be a much harder negotiator, but he was willing to take what he could get.

* * *

"Lord Megatron." Starscream sneered, striding into the throne room where Megatron did much of his planning. The Decepticon leader turned, watching the Seeker's approach.

"What have you to report, Starscream?"

"Only that Jazz has not yet returned with the warp engines, mighty Megatron. He was supposed to have come back by now."

"How do you think he will fare under the Autobots' interrogation?"

"Oh, I don't know. He's tricky, but not used to pain. And the Autobots are rather weak in their interrogation technique."

"Don't underestimate Prime." Megatron said. "Assume he's been captured and start changing over all our codes. And do it silently."

* * *

Prowl was in his quarters, having been forced off duty by Ratchet. For once, he didn't resent the free time- his mind was not clear.

So Jazz was here. After all this time, his sparkmate had returned- an he was a Decepticon. He was an enemy. Prowl had known that that was the most likely possibility. He had known that Jazz was on the other side, but it hadn't been truly real until he'd seen the insignia on his shoulder.

Jazz was a killer and a spy and a thorn in their side, and yet some part of Prowl still wanted to protect him. Was it merely an expression of the subroutines that were activated by sparkbonding, a survival method from his core programming, or was it love that drove him? How could he even know? Did he want to know?

There were no answers to these questions, and Prowl had to admit that he wasn't brave enough to go see Jazz. There were too many things he wanted to say, and some of them were contradictory. Jazz, though he was the other half of Prowl's soul, was an unknown now, and he was unpredictable. Prowl hated unpredictable things; they created the possibility of error, and when your decisions could kill your subordinates, there was no room for error.

Did Jazz still love him? It seemed like a foolish question when there were seven ships and twenty two lives on the line. His priorities seemed in flux- should he side with what was good for the Autobots, who had taken him in, who he had fought besides, whose cause he believed in, or should he side with Jazz, whom he had loved, might still love, and whom he owed at least an explanation and probably more.

* * *

"_You think too much."_

_Prowl's optics flickered as he shifted so he could look at Jazz, who was sprawled gracefully out on top of him. The grey mech called out to him again across the bond._

_-Heavy thoughts-?_

_-I wish you wouldn't go to Kaon. It's not safe, Jazz. The Decepticons are in power there now.-_

_-I'll be quick about my business there, Prowl, but my friends needs me. I wouldn't go if it weren't important.-_

_-I know. But I dislike the idea of you going into danger alone, especially as you are rather prone to trouble-_

_-Hey, it'll be fine. I'm glad you're not comin'. I'd hate to worry.- _

_-I'm needed in Praxus, Jazz. Otherwise I would come. I'll call you when I get back, and I -expect you to answer.-_

_-I will, I will…That's right, you'll be home first…when are we getting' the double berth?-_

_-Next week.- _

_-Shame. I'll miss this.-_

_-Miss what? I'm looking forward to recharging without my doorwings being crushed by your weight.-_

_-Yeah, but think of all the times we've interfaced just because it was better then wrigglin' around all night, tryin' to get comfortable…-_

_-So you only interface with me because it's convenient? Maybe we need separate berths instead.-_

_-Hey, no need to go that far. I'll still love you when there's more than an inch of space between us.-_

_-I love you now, even if you are about to break my doorwing joints.-_

_-Guess I should get ready to leave. Make sure you refuel properly while I'm gone.-_

_-Be careful.-_

_-Don't worry. I never do.-_

_-I worry. Come back as quickly as you can.-_

_-I'll be back before you know it. Have fun in Praxus, and don't bother walkin' me out.- _

* * *

"You really think he'll defect?" Red Alert was bustling around the security hub, checking to make sure the system was still running. Optimus lingered near the door, trying to stay out of his way. Red Alert was friends with Prowl, as they worked together on most internal issues and banded together to catch troublemakers, and Prime thought that the head of security might be able to help him. Prowl had always maintained some distance from Optimus regarding his past, but Red Alert might know more.

"I don't think he'll go back to the Decepticons." Optimus replied.

"Prowl didn't tell me about his sparkmate, if that's what you're wondering. He only told you and Ratchet. But Jazz doesn't exactly seem sane- he attacked Prowl twice, which goes against basic sparkbond programming, and he kept screaming that Prowl wasn't real. And his showing up like this seems…convenient. Jazz would have been stupid not to check out the Autobots onboard the ship before he came, which would have given him Prowl's name and basic background. I don't like this, Prime. It's just not safe to have him onboard where he could manipulate Prowl."

"Manipulate Prowl?"

"We only think he's here for the warp engines! He could be here for anything, Prime- assassinating you or some other officer, sowing discord, general reconnaissance, anything. This could all be a plot to take out our tactician!"

"It could be." Prime agreed. "What do you recommend? Jazz is willing to talk if he's allowed to see Prowl."

"I heard." Red Alert paced back and forth, looking distressed. "We could find out some valuable information if he does talk, but I wouldn't trust a Decepticon saboteur."

"Prowl may want to see him- and you're forgetting about Prowl's unique situation. We might discover how to replace a spark chamber if we were allowed to study their bond. I think it might be worth the risk."

"It won't be worth it if we're all dead." Red Alert grumbled. "Ask Prowl whether he'll see Jazz. He's in his quarters."

"I thought I forbade you from putting cameras in personal quarters."

"Prowl volunteered, and how easy would it be for an assassin to murder one of us in our berths because we couldn't see them?"

"Considering the amount of cameras on this ship? Not very easy at all."

"Make sure you cuff Jazz before you let him near Prowl. I don't trust him."

* * *

Impossible as it seemed, Jazz was starting to feel bored.

They'd turned down the lights in the interrogation room this time, and even brought in chairs and a table. When the guards had left him there, Prowl had been waiting for him at the table, datapad and stylus in hand. Jazz had assumed that Prowl was there because he wanted information about the Decepticons, and he'd been right.

But it had been hours since they'd started, and Jazz had forgotten how determined Prowl could be once he decided to do something. He was thorough and patient and perfectly calm even when listening to some of Jazz's less than pleasant tales. There were questions about everything, even the most inconsequential things, and Prowl delivered every single one in the same flat tone.

It was tedious after a while, when he'd run out of things to tell that would make Prowl hate him more and he was left with things like floor plans and profiles.

"Are you repaired?"

"What?" Jazz frowned, wondering where that had come from.

"You were injured during our last…encounter."

"Your medic welded me up." Prowl nodded, and looked down at his datapad.

He'd run out of relevant questions earlier, but had continued to interrogate, if it could be called that, Jazz anyways. He didn't want to leave his sparkmate down in the brig alone, but what to say to him? Prowl had no idea, but now he was out of questions, and either he could ask what was really preying on his mind, or he could abandon Jazz.

That Jazz might deserve abandonment crossed his mind. By his own account he was responsible indirectly for at least six Autobot deaths and sixteen captures. Protocol dictated that Jazz either defect or be put into stasis until the end of the war.

Something in his demeanor must have revealed his inner turmoil; Jazz spoke up.

"I'm sorry."

Prowl gave his pretense of calm and simply stared at Jazz. "Why did you join the Decepticons, Jazz?"

"They figured out that somethin' was wrong with my spark." Jazz looked down. "They thought that you were…gone, so they wanted to study me, see if they could replicate it. They shut off most of my processor so I couldn't plan an escape. All I could think of was how you were…" Jazz trailed off. "One day they fixed me up for some experiments and left me to close to a terminal. I hacked into it, almost crashed the ship, damn near got deactivated afterwards."

"And?"

"it was a distraction. So I kept doing it. And when it wasn't enough, I did…other stuff. Whatever it took to keep from thinkin' about you."

"I don't understand."

"They told me I was crazy." Jazz shrugged. "That whatever I felt in my spark was an illusion. I can't explain why I did it, Prowl."

"That's why you attacked me."

"Guess so."

"And now?" Prowl asked. He could imagine Jazz killing, if he really tried- and yet the empty look on Jazz's face was spark-achingly familiar. And yet he had the sense that whether or not he could forgive Jazz was irrelevant; it was impossible to just let him go, whether into stasis or the Allspark or anywhere else.

"It's in your hands now. I'm a prisoner, remember?"

There was nothing to be said to that. Prowl didn't think Jazz intended to try and escape, which meant he was at the mercy of the Autobot command. Feeling weary, he pulled Jazz to his feet and handed him off to the guards to be escorted back to his cell.

* * *

A week passed, and then another, and then another. The weeks turned into months.

Had the situation been different, someone would have pointed out to Prowl that his sparkmate was sitting in a cell, but only a day after their second conversation, Prowl successfully predicted a Decepticon attack that was narrowly thwarted. Megatron had developed a new kind of more efficient mini power plant, allowing his soldiers to sport weaponry usually reserved for ships. The Ark coordinated the counterattacks on several fronts, and Prowl found himself mired in work; he had to help plan their overall strategy and assist with each smaller one, he had to sign off and keep track of the influx of requests for troops and supplies, and he had to coordinate the rotation of fresh warriors onto each front.

The battle was long, but eventually the secret of the power plants was cracked and the Decepticons, who had dug in at various places within Autobot territory, were ousted and repelled. Once the clean up was done and things were relatively slower, it was Ratchet who finally reintroduced the subject while helping Prowl dissipate excess spark energy.

"The build ups happen faster when you two are close." Ratchet explained as he slapped the dissipater onto Prowl's chest. "By the way, I looked at your spark scans. I think I figured out how to fix your bond."

"You can correct the spark harmonics?"

"Not exactly. Bonding again might reset them."

There was a silence as Prowl contemplated that. Intimacy had been the farthest thing from his mind for a long time, even when Jazz had first been captured. His only thoughts of merging came in the form of restless, vivid dreams that he never remembered but always left him hot and trembling when he awoke. He had always ignored the dreams, writing them off as being caused by stress and an overworked processor during his recharge cycle.

"I spared you the trouble and told Jazz this myself."

"I see."

"Do you, now. He asked after you."

"He did?"

"Go see him already. I'm putting you on medical leave for three shifts; figure out what's going on with your sparkmate by the end of it. He can't just sit in there forever."

"Of course." Prowl got up to leave. Ratchet brandished a wrench threateningly.

"Stop lazing around in my med bay and go already! Primus."

* * *

**AN: Any part of Prowl and Jazz's backstory you want to see in coming chapters? **


	5. part five

_part five_

"_We're goin' to get killed if we don't pick a side!" Jazz snapped. "You can't possibly think the neutrals are goin' to be left alone."_

"_The Decepticons are still fairly weak and they haven't moved out of the southern region. Whether they are a real threat is still-"_

"_You didn't see Kaon. Look, Megatron's got a point, alright? He's right about some sutff and he'll have no trouble gettin' support no matter wherever he goes. He's a threat, plain and simple, and we'll get killed if we don't do somethin'."_

"_The threat of widespread violence might force the Council to concede. We don't know. If you're really worried, we can easily move to a neutral zone."_

"_I don't think the cons are goin' to take kindly to neutrals."_

"_But you don't know, Jazz. There's no sense in being hasty."_

* * *

Was the orange there just to torment the prisoners, or did the Autobots really like the color? Jazz was staring the walls for the millionth time, feeling bored. Prowl hadn't come to see him at all, which was expected but still depressing. The medic, Ratchet had come to see him as well. Jazz doubted Prowl would want to bond with him again, but he was glad to hear that the tactician wasn't injured but just busy.

Someone came down the halls, and the mech guarding him looked up and straightened.

It was Prowl. Jazz stared at him, and then jumped up to his feet, his balance unhampered by the fact that his wrists were cuffed together.

"Ratchet talked to you?"

"Yeah."

Prowl let himself into the cell, and then pulled out an access chip and used it to lock the cuffs. Jazz flexed his wrists.

There was that awkward silence again. Prowl found himself at a loss again, and it frustrated him; he'd never been the most emotionally aware of mechs, but he'd always been able to meet Jazz's needs before, and now he couldn't even figure out how to start a conversation. He wracked his memory, watching as Jazz fidgeted under his stare.

"The excess energy could reach fatal levels if we're not careful." Prowl said finally. "For that, reason, at least, I thought we should at least…consider…"

"Bondin'." Jazz finished. He wondered if he were actually still in recharge and suffering from some kind of glitch. It seemed impossible that Prowl would still want any kind of intimacy with him. Not that he was going to argue with Prowl about it if he did. "I don't mind."

"Oh." Prowl looked stymied. Somehow he'd expected this conversation to be more difficult. "Come. Not in the brig."

"Right." Jazz was surprised when Prowl didn't cuff him- just put a hand on his back and guided him down the hallway, into an elevator, and then into a brighter lit, more open section of the Ark. It was still that nauseating orange color, sadly, and there were mechs and the occasional femme in the hallways, all looking with disbelief and curiosity at Prowl as he led Jazz around a corner and into a deserted hallway. "These are your quarters?"

"Yes." Prowl opened one of the doors. The two went into the small room, the door closing behind them.

Prowl's quarters were sparse- no personal items, only a berth and a desk shelves set into the wall, and datapads stacked in perfect rows. They were clean, free of even a speck of dust.

:Red Alert:

:What?:

:Turn off the cameras in my quarters.:

:Why? What are you doing in there?:

:Bonding. I would prefer you didn't watch.:

:Right. I won't watch.:

:Turn off the cameras, Red Alert. I hardly think my sparkmate is going to attack me.:

:Fine, they're off.:

"What was that?"

"Nothing." Prowl muttered. "Just switching off the cameras."

Jazz didn't comment on that, although he couldn't help but imagine what kinds of things Prowl must have been doing in his quarters to warrant surveillance. Of course, the Decepticons had cameras everywhere, but that was because anyone with even a drop of ambition in their lines maintained their own network of surveillance on top of the official one reporting to Megatron. Jazz had always assumed someone was watching while stationed under Soundwave.

The idea that Prowl might have taken another partner during his absence ate at Jazz. It didn't seem likely, considering the narrow berth and the unlived-in quarters, but he worried about it anyways, as if there weren't much bigger problems at hand.

There was only one way to know what Prowl was thinking. Jazz retracted the armor over his chamber with a click, and Prowl turned around at the sound. His doorwings were twitching with nervousness.

"Come on." Jazz said, trying to sound more confident than he really was. "Let's do it."

"Right," Prowl said, and he reached out to the saboteur. "Let's."

* * *

_Jazz was easily distracted. It was a weakness of his, he knew- he was naturally interested in everything and he was good at improvising, but sometimes he went too far off track and got into unnecessary trouble. And in this notorious club, distractions were a half-credit for twenty._

_The club had a name, but it was known for the tendency of the patrons to interface and even sparkmerge on the floor, in full view. It was understood that what happened there stayed there, and the owner's willingness to look in the other direction made it a perfect place for meeting when you didn't want to be overheard and an easy way to obtain things that couldn't legally be sold._

_On that particular night Jazz had been in the corner, simply watching and listening. Eventually something would catch his attention, and until then he could amuse himself. _

_A flash of white caught his optics. It wasn't the paint but the movement that drew his attention- the mech moved stiffly, in direct contrast to dancers and drinkers and lovers around him. He made his way straight to the back of the room, to a table where a morose yellow-green mech- Jazz recalled that he was a young medic, just graduated- was getting steadily overcharged._

_The two argued. Curious, Jazz dialed up his audios, listening to their conversation._

"_Razor, this is hardly-"_

"_I'm going to die, Prowl. I'll be deactivated before the orn's out. Want some high grade?"_

"_Razor. You are behaving in an irrational manner. The only thing you're in danger of is overcharging yourself into a stupor. Come with me."_

"_I can't pay the protection fee. Primus only knows what they'll do to me."_

"_Razor, if this is about your ill-advised choice in lodgings, I've offered-"_

"_And get you into trouble? I can't! You're my only friend, Prowl!"_

"…_Razor, you're being absurd." The white and black mech tugged the cube away from Razor and hauled the medic to his feet by the shoulder. "Come."_

"_I…I'm going to miss you a lot…once I'm deactivated…"_

"_No one is deactivating you, Razor." The white and black glanced up to see if anyone was watching. He missed Jazz's stare through his visor, and slid his fingers into a gap in the plating on Razor's neck. The medic's optics flickered and went dark, and Prowl hauled him out of the club, looking stern and out of place all the way._

_Jazz pushed off the wall and left, weaving in between couples, and ducking out the door just in time to see the white and black mech turn a corner. _

_The grey mech grinned and followed._

* * *

An internal alarm went off, and Prowl onlined in his berth- which in itself was unusual, as he preferred to take his off shifts in his office. But he wasn't alone, and for a second, Prowl imagined he was back in his old apartment.

Then memories returned, and he turned onto his side to look at Jazz.

He could feel his sparkmate again. Even across the universe, it was said that sparkmates were always aware of the other's spark; here, with Jazz beside, him, Prowl could almost read his thoughts. Jazz was dreaming– seeing bits of memory and thought while he recharged. Of what, Prowl didn't know, but he could feel guilt and pain and grief, and could guess.

He was ashamed to admit he'd forgotten how intense sparkbonding could be. Their sparks as one, every feeling and thought and memory had been bared, and it was as painful as it was pleasurable, as exhausting as it was energizing. There was no hiding anything from your partner during such an intimate moment; the true self was revealed without any of the masks a mech might don to function in the real world.

It didn't matter how many firewalls you lowered during interface or how long you had known a mech or even how many times you'd sparkmerged. There could always be surprises. A bond was more difficult than an ordinary merge; it lasted longer, took more energy, and took more effort- it was a trade of self, not just experiences.

What had come through clearest was Jazz's suffering. The silver mech had blamed himself for Prowl's death, for the argument that had left them separated during the riots, for what he believed was his own insanity. He'd thrown himself into the Decepticon cause in an attempt to escape his sorrow and in some way punish himself. He had believed that Prowl would hate him.

Now that their bond seemed to have healed, Prowl was already planning their next conversation. It would have to wait until after his share of the work was done, but-

:Prowl? Where are you? Your shift is about to start and you're going to be late if you don't-:

:On my way, Red Alert. And turn those cameras off.:

:I was just checking in on you. I didn't see anything.: Red Alert sounded sulky. :Hurry on down here, will you? Wheeljack's had a mishap with the warp engines and we can't find bits of him.:

:Again? I thought they'd resolved the problem.: Prowl slid reluctantly from the berth, grabbed a datapad, wrote a note and left it on the desk for Jazz, and keyed in his code. He started down the hallway towards the conference room.

:They had a breakthrough. We're supposed to have a working prototype within the week.:

:Excellent.: Prowl rapped on the conference room door, and stared directly up at the camera, which scanned him and transmitted an image to the bots inside. His identity confirmed, the door slid open, and the tactician stepped inside. Prime, Ironhide, Ratchet, and Red Alert were waiting for him.

They were all staring at him, and he understood immediately what the first item of business was. He sat down, directly across from Prime, and waited.

"How's the spark?" Ratchet asked. Prowl could feel the tingle of medical scans.

"Fine."

And it was. The empty feeling that had persisted in his weakened bond was gone.

"It is time," Prime said, "for Jazz to take a side. Frankly, I hope he will choose to join us, both for his skills and for your sake, but if he decides otherwise-"

"-he will be sent to a prison camp or put into stasis indefinitely." Prowl finished. He was well aware of what the Autobots did with prisoners; while Jazz was thankfully not in danger of execution, if he refused to join the Autobots it was likely the others would push for him to go into stasis rather than prison camp. Their sparkbonding had assured him that Jazz wasn't particularly loyal to the Decepticons. "I cannot speak for Jazz."

"So let's talk to him." Ironhide argued.

"He can't just stay in the brig." Red Alert agreed. "Or in your quarters- he shouldn't even be there now."

"I ordered that." Ratchet snapped. "No medic worth his wrench is going to separate two newly bonded sparks for at least a few hours."

"It's been a few hours." Red Alert said. "Since when do we allow prisoners to stay alone in unsecured areas of the Ark?"

"Enough." Prime said. "Prowl, Red Alert, if you would escort Jazz here, we'll end this now."

* * *

"_Hey."_

_Prowl turned around, and saw that it was the grey mech from before. They'd run into each other while he was dragging an unconscious and overcharged Razor home. What did he want?_

"_Is your friend okay? I heard he was havin' trouble with the local gang."_

"_He's fine." Prowl said curtly. He started to walk away, but the grey mech followed him._

"_Wanna go get a cube?"_

"_What?"_

"_Energon, you drink it, it keeps you from being dead…I'll buy you a cube." When Prowl just stared at him, clearly trying to process what had just happened, Jazz grinned and grabbed his arm. "Come on."_

_Prowl allowed himself to be led down the street by the arm, still confused as to what was actually happened. His logic center was stuck on the odds of being accosted in the street by some mech whose name he didn't even know._

"_Who are you?"_

"_Name's Jazz." The grey mech said cheerfully. He dragged Prowl off the road, into one of the various energon dispensaries that did business in this part of the city. _

_Jazz paid for two cubes of standard energon- flavored energon was sold only in higher end places- and led Prowl over to a table in the corner. He handed the white and black mech his cube and watched with amusement as Prowl stared blankly into its depths for a second before slowly taking a sip. Then he looked up, directly at Jazz._

"_So." Jazz leaned forward. "What's your name?"_

* * *

Jazz awoke disoriented.

It took him a second to recognize the room as Prowl's, and then he simply lay there, content as memories of their bonding washed over him.

It had been terrifying at first. It had been so long since he'd had to share himself with anyone else, and there were so many things he didn't want Prowl to see, and he had no idea what Prowl might be hiding from him.

But once their sparks were touching and their energies were aligned, things had been…easy.

It was as if the entire world had narrowed to the confines of their joined spark chambers, as if that small space contained the universe within it. His frame had ceased to exist, and the nervous tension had faded.

They were not two but one, and how could it have ever been any other way?

Every memory and thought and feeling had been shared equally between them, with nothing held back. In those glorious moments, Jazz had been safe- held fast in emotions so intense they burned, without any fear, accepted utterly by his sparkmate.

Now that it was over, he could still feel Prowl, presumably called off on Autobot business. He knew he should have been worrying about what would happen next, but one thought ran on repeat throughout his mind.

Prowl still loved him. Despite everything. Prowl did not blame him for everything that had happened.

Somehow his sparkmate had found it in his spark to forgive him.

Knowing that, it seemed pointless to worry about what would happen next; he would do whatever Prowl wanted, and he certainly wasn't planning on going back to the Decepticons (although he might make an exception to kill Shockwave.)

* * *

_Razor was in shock. _

_After the fiasco with protection fees, he'd given in and moved into Prowl's apartment. It was white, stark, and spotless, and the medic found it's resemblance to the medical bays where he worked comforting. Prowl himself was always clean and white._

_So when he came home in the middle of the night, with grey paint scrapes and a dazed look on his face, Razor was completely surprised. He couldn't have been more shocked if energon had started falling from the sky or one of Cybertron's moon had suddenly transformed into a giant mech. Prowl was never in disarray. _

"_What happened to you?" Razor asked. "I thought you said you would be back tomorrow! And you have paint scrapes all over- oh." It suddenly occurred to the medic that there was really only one way to get paint scrapes like that, and only a few activities involved two mechs being close enough to trade paintjobs. _

"_I…" Prowl flicked his doorwings in irritation. He wanted to get washed up and then recharge, before he could actually have to think too much about what had just happened. He was certain that if he dwelt on Jazz's parting words, he would work himself up to a processor crash. It was better to wait, to think about it later and decide what he was going to do. _

"_I thought you were working late." Razor said dryly. "You should have told me you'd found a partner."_

"_I-what?" Prowl headed towards the wash rack in the back of the apartment. "It's…difficult."_

"_You didn't get those scrapes from a fight, did you?"_

"_Hardly." _

_Prowl ducked into the wash rack, switched on the solvent and began scrubbing. Once he was completely clean, he went into his berthroom and lay down, too restless to sink into recharge._

"_I love you." Jazz had said, just before Prowl had fled._

_How in Primus' name was he going to tell Jazz he loved him as well?_


End file.
